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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26598364">by the light of day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/miyochee'>miyochee (orphan_account)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining, artist!Remus, basically broke college students in a vague timeline, no beta we die like men, stargazing(?), they are also poor, why not</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:22:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26598364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/miyochee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like it’s not easy, being around Sirius. It’s the fact that it feels too much so that makes him nervous. It might bring his guard down, make him think it’s okay to do something equally stupid as asking your best friend to climb a roof with you. Like hold your best friend’s hand. Or kiss your best friend. Or let your best friend know you’ve liked them for longer than you’ve had a Brit accent. Equally stupid, if not more so.</p><p>So tonight, it is just him and Sirius.</p><p>And everything else between them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>by the light of day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The air is chilly inside their apartment. The AC, technically speaking, is turned on, but when it decides to work is completely up to the machine itself. </p><p>Today is one of those days when it has chosen not to. </p><p>Remus can’t feel his toes. James, the bastard, keeps saying they’re gonna fall off soon. He knows they won’t—he may be an English Literature major (something his friends wouldn’t let him forget about), but he knows enough about the human anatomy to know that his toes aren’t going to separate from his body because of a 20 something degree cement floor. </p><p>Still… he worries. </p><p>“Where’s Padfoot?” James asks off-handedly. He’s rummaging through his drawers, looking for something. Remus and Peter are both on their beds, Peter on the bottom bunk and Remus on the top. </p><p>“You’re never giving up those names, are you?” Remus asks. He began reading East of Eden again, though he shouldn’t have expected to get peace and quiet wherever this lot resided.</p><p>“Can’t say I will, Moony,” He says, momentarily stopping his search to shrug at Remus—or Moony, it seemed, as he would like to call him. There’s a smile on James’ face he can’t help but mirror. </p><p>It was an old nickname, first started by a much smaller James on the first day of kindergarten. </p><p>Or so he’s told. </p><p>He’d only joined their group in high school, when he had just transferred from Wales and the accent on his tongue was still thick. Sirius had dragged him to meet “The Marauders” the minute after he introduced himself as his seatmate, running and bumping into bodies in the corridor and laughing when he heard Remus rapidly apologize to as many people as he could. His hair wasn’t as long back then—the school wouldn’t let him—but he always tried to skirt as near to the violations as possible, so his hair was still shaggy, longer than most. It flew when he ran, too. Remus noticed as much, even when Sirius’ warm palm was grasping his. </p><p>“Sirius—er, Padfoot’s still out tonight. Said he’d be back at the dorm around eleven.” answers Peter. He lets out a yawn and rubs his eyes tiredly, rolling around to lie on his back. “Maybe drinking, maybe studying. ‘S a fifty-fifty.”</p><p>“Are you ridiculous? Studying, for sure. When he starts drinking, he doesn’t stop until at least two in the bloody morning. If he said he’s coming back by eleven, he’s probably at the library now.” James says as he continues going through his drawers. Remus peers over his book to catch sight of a stray t-shirt flying across the room.</p><p>“Check beside it, left side. Under Peter's travelling bags.”</p><p>James lets out a triumphant sound and holds up a thick, wooly beige blanket in the same way a knight might brandish his sword against his mortal enemy, like a powerful dragon or a wicked witch. In this modern reimagining, it is James against the cold, cold autumn. Remus holds back a laugh.</p><p>“Aha! Thanks, Moons.”</p><p>“You’re welcome, Prongs.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s still cold when he wakes up, forehead pressed against the table they’ve scraped enough money to buy. It’s wooden, and can easily fit five people. It has that nice shine to it too. They were so proud when they bought it. </p><p>It does nothing against the cold, though, as he’s observing now. </p><p>He looks to the wall clock, to see the time, but it’s too dark to make out anything that far.</p><p>Before he can stand and turn on the lights, the doorknob jingles. Then the door creaks open slightly. Slowly. Probably as to not wake anyone. Remus keeps quiet. The lights aren’t on yet, but the TV is and it has just enough light for him to make out a vague silhouette; one that he recognizes, and could, even in somewhere and sometime as dark as this. </p><p>There’s a man wrapped in skinny jeans and a leather jacket  silently inching his way into their apartment, his back facing Remus. His hair, jet black, flows just slightly past his shoulders. Remus could even see studs on his jacket from here. A street punk. Or someone who wants to look like one.</p><p>“Good session?” He speaks up.  </p><p>“Jesus!” The intruder exclaims, startled. “Fuck, it’s only you, Moony. Don’t—don’t jump on me like that, yeah?” He puts his hand on his chest, as if to calm his beating heart. His speech is slightly slurred, and if Remus had any doubts, the smell latching onto him would’ve taken that away. </p><p>“Have you been drinking?” He asks anyway. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah... Bad idea, I know. I didn’t drink that much, though, just a pint! Or two. Or three…” He rubs a hand over his face tiredly. Remus feels for him, even if it was his decision. His very wrong, very stupid decision.</p><p>“You shouldn’t have gone drinking, mate. Did you even study?” </p><p>“Of course I did, you wanker. I studied real hard, then I drank. Just—” He pinches his thumb and forefinger together. “—this much. Just a little bit.”</p><p>He’s on clean-up duty again, he supposes. It’s his fault anyway, for always waiting for Sirius, for always being the last to leave, but it’s easier to complain and pretend he’s unwilling. Like he doesn’t mean to do it every time. It was a coincidence, that’s all. He needed to stay up late, maybe doing some sketching, some reading, or to finish a project. That’s all.</p><p>Peter doesn't mind. He doesn't even think Peter notices, first off, so he doesn't worry much about him.</p><p>But James...</p><p>Sometimes James looks at him funny when he says that, like he can see straight through his flimsy lies and is about to say <em> 'Aha! I gotcha!' </em> </p><p>Remus would get uneasy when he does it, would find himself clamming up and anticipating something to happen, but James would always nod after a moment and they would brush it off and never speak of it again.</p><p>Remus is sure he knows. He is not sure when they will talk about it, or if.</p><p>The TV is emitting static. It’s thick, one of those old models, but it looks older than it probably is. They’ve never cleaned it beyond a quick wipe and they didn’t have money to replace it with anything better. Although it’s loud in the silence of their apartment, Remus’ sigh still pierces through it, clear and heavy.</p><p>“Go to bed, love. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? You go ahead and sleep now.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(Remus did do some sketching, after all, not long after Sirius had left. He went to their bedroom—almost a communal area, because like every other space in this apartment it is shared with the four of them—picked up his pad and pencil and headed out—but he stopped when he reached the doorframe, however, and looked back. </p><p>He had taken his own blanket, for after some looking he found out Sirius was currently dozing off <em> on </em> his own one, and laid it on the sleeping boy. It was a cold night, after all, and if one lived where they lived, a cold night happens to be every night.</p><p>Remus' eyes traced the way his hair covered his eyes, fluttering every so often; and the structure of his face, gentle and peaceful, like he hadn't known struggle; like his head still slept on a down-feather pillow back at his family's mansion. </p><p>He looked so peaceful like this, like he didn’t have a care in the world. No bills. No tuition. Food is guaranteed, prepared by the head chef of some fancy ass restaurant, with credentials Remus didn’t understand. </p><p>That would be the dream, wouldn't it?</p><p><em> 'That </em> would <em> be the dream…' </em>he thought, as his eyes lingered longer on Sirius, sprawled on his stomach. He’s pretty sure there’s drool on the side of his face.</p><p>It looked disgusting and uncomfortable. Remus wished, truly, that he wasn’t so endeared by it. </p><p>Sirius rustled, muttered something Remus wasn’t sure was even English, and he hurriedly, as quietly as he could, picked up the pad and paper he set on the floor and finally arrived in the living room, heart pounding.</p><p>He takes a deep gulp of breath. Then, he starts sketching.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The water is boiling. The whistle of the kettle cuts through their small talk, which was really just Remus asking him about what happened and Sirius murmuring replies, almost incoherent in their low volume. </p><p>He's used to this by now. No loud sounds, no bright lights. He stands up to prepare a cuppa for them both, one coffee and one chamomile. It's a routine he's all too familiar with.</p><p>“No breakfast?”</p><p>“You’re lucky I’m even boiling you water.”</p><p>“Is that chamomile?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“There’s those new kettles now, did you know that? They have wires inside of them that heat up the water. You just plug it into a socket and bam! Done. Hot water.”</p><p>“That fast?” asks Remus, humouring him.</p><p>“No, actually. It’s not instant but it gets the job done after two minutes…” Sirius then sighs dramatically. “I feel old.”</p><p>“What?” Remus asks incredulously, his hand on the handle of the kettle. “You’re twenty-two, Sirius. Old is hardly a term I could call you.” </p><p>“Well I feel old, talking about kettles. Is there really nothing else we can talk about? <em> Kettles? </em>Really?”</p><p>Remus hums in mock-thought. “Well, we can talk about how you went and got yourself wasted yesterday.”</p><p>“Please, Moony, I wasn’t wasted. Drunk, sure. Yes. That’s true. But I wasn’t wasted. That brings shame to all the times I actually was.”</p><p>“Then let’s talk about how you went and got yourself drunk yesterday.”</p><p>Sirius lets out a loud groan and plops his head on his arms crossed on the table. “You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yes.” He answers, the corners of his mouth upturned. The sun has barely risen yet, he notes. Steam rises as he pours the water on the cups, careful like they were made of the most delicate china.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t very safe, is it?” </p><p>“Not at all.” Sirius grins, and Remus doesn’t know if his heart is racing because of it or because they’re perched on top of James’ roof and they’re up incredibly high and the wind is biting his cheeks and <em> good lord, if they fall down—  </em></p><p>“Scared?” Sirius asks him, breaking him out of his thoughts. His hands are turning white from trying to hold onto the ridge, meanwhile Sirius looks like he’s lounging on a couch somewhere<em> that’s not a fucking roof. </em> He huffs.</p><p>“Take a guess.” He grits out. </p><p>Sirius laughs, loud and boisterous, and Remus could feel it reverberate in his fright-addled mind. It sounds... nice.</p><p>“Shhh! Shush! Shut up!” He whispers. “Do you <em> want </em> to get caught? I don’t understand how you come up with these plans and forget the part where you’re <em> not </em>supposed to get caught!” </p><p>“We aren’t, Moony,” said Sirius assuredly. “If Prongs’ parents heard a laugh at this time of the night, I bet every single penny of my inheritance they’d think we’re staying up late, not wandering about and exploring their lovely roof.” </p><p>“But you don’t have an inheritance anymore…” Remus grumbles but agrees, albeit reluctantly. He doesn’t want to inflate his friend’s ego any further, but he does agree that this hare-brained plan could only be thought of by the most insane of people (and Mr. and Mrs. Potter was certainly not one of them). Remus bemoans the fact that he was the only who got roped into this. Having James and Peter here wouldn’t make it safer—in fact, having four teenage boys on a roof just spells <em> more </em>trouble—but it might make it easier, having their horrible attempts at being quiet and stupid jokes being thrown back and forth.</p><p>Tonight, it is just him and Sirius.</p><p>It’s not like it’s <em> not </em>easy, being around Sirius. It’s the fact that it feels too much so that makes him nervous. It might bring his guard down, make him think it’s okay to do something equally stupid as asking your best friend to climb a roof with you. Like hold your best friend’s hand. Or kiss your best friend. Or let your best friend know you’ve liked them for longer than you’ve had a Brit accent. Equally stupid, if not more so.</p><p>So tonight, it is just him and Sirius.</p><p>And everything else between them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” Sirius mumbles gratefully, cradling the little cup in his hands when he gives it to him, trying to warm up the tips of his fingers. They were always deathly cold. </p><p>“You're welcome.” He smiles in response.</p><p>“Stop smiling. It’s too early.” </p><p>“Maybe I’m smiling because it’s early.”</p><p>“I can’t compete with you today,” Sirius groans. The sky is turning orange behind the blinds, vibrant and bright and real. Remus thinks it might be time.</p><p>“I have something to tell you.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(“Aren’t you going to sleep?”</p><p>“No, not yet. I’m waiting for Sirius.” He pauses, then corrects himself, the name sounding strangely intimate now, strangely <em> close, </em>“Padfoot, you know. Make sure he’s alright and all that.” He keeps the concern out of voice, just enough to mistake it for a friend worried about a friend. Or a college student worried about a fellow college student, knowing how hard finals can be. Nothing beyond that.</p><p>James stares at him for a moment longer, then gives him a sleepy smile that doesn’t seem like it should belong to the piercingly alert person from two seconds earlier. “Okay. Good night, Rem.”</p><p>He nods, mumbles a <em> ‘good night, Prongs,’ </em>as a reply. </p><p>He’s left alone in their living room. It’s a bit cold.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never had my first kiss before.”</p><p>“What!?” Remus exclaims.</p><p>“What do you mean, what?” asks Sirius.</p><p>“Why did you tell me this? Why now?” Remus asks, still sputtering.</p><p>“Shouldn’t I be able to tell my closest friend about this?” asks Sirius, tone defensive.</p><p>“Yeah, you can, I was just… Startled, that’s all.” Remus responds placatingly. Sirius’ shoulders loosen. “So you’ve never had yours, huh?”</p><p>“No... I guess no one caught my eye.” He shrugs casually, like it was just another fact about him. “And you?”</p><p>“Um… Yes. Fifth grade. This one girl ambushed me and planted a sloppy one right on me lips. It was gross.” Remus shudders, recalling the less than pleasant memory. Sirius didn’t respond and Remus turned to look at him, and was horrified to find a teasing smile on his friend’s face.</p><p>“Oh, you womanizer! Picking up chicks before you even went through puberty! Prongs didn’t even know he had competition—” </p><p>“I should have never told you this.” Remus groans in embarrassment.</p><p>“I’m just joking, Moony.” He mimics zipping his mouth shut, and then throwing the slider away. Remus shakes his head and tries not to be amused.</p><p>“You know… this isn’t that bad.” says Remus, a lot calmer now. They’re still on the rooftop, but he feels less like the building is going to cave in and drop them at any moment. Maybe it’s the adrenaline clouding his logic, but he feels almost serene now. It’s weird. </p><p>“Right? I told you it would be fun.” Sirius says confidently, though the relief is audible in his tone. </p><p>“I’m not saying it’s <em> fun </em>, I’m saying it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. My idea of fun is not this.” </p><p>“Sure, Rem. Sure.” He drags out the word sarcastically. Remus turns the other way so he couldn’t see the smile fighting its way onto his face.</p><p>“How many years have we known each other now?” Sirius asks, staring up into the dark sky. The stars have come out today, like they have. Remus isn’t looking at the stars though. He looks at Sirius, really looks. </p><p>It’s summer. His hair is probably the longest it’s ever been. It just barely brushes his shoulders. There’s a small smile on his face he doesn’t think Sirius even notices, but it’s there and it’s inviting and Remus gulps because sometimes, stupid decisions don’t mean horrible outcomes. Sometimes they mean hanging out with your best friend on top of a rooftop you were initially too scared to climb. Sometimes they mean getting to know them more, better, something you didn’t think was possible.</p><p>Maybe Sirius meant something by bringing up his first kiss. His heart races at the thought. Was that his way of hinting? A little nudge in his direction? His hands are turning white again, but for a whole different reason this time. </p><p>His mouth is opening now, he’s saying something, but Remus can’t, he <em> can’t— </em> He can’t bring himself to <em> say </em>it, just fucking say it already— </p><p>“Hey! Do you need to get your ears checked?”</p><p>“Sod off.” Remus lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The chilly air lets him regain some sense of mind. His heart is still pounding in his chest, in his ears.</p><p>“Right…” Sirius trails off, looking at him strangely. He brushed it off. “Look up.”</p><p>“Huh. The sky’s turning purple. I forgot the Earth’s rotation is a totally new concept.”</p><p>Remus finds himself looking back at Sirius again, with the colours of dawn in front of them. He feels himself soften, a little bit, even if he’s only in his cheap, thin pajamas and should feel like he’s freezing. </p><p>He melts.</p><p>“Beautiful.” He whispers, carrying all the weight of whatever it was between them, whatever it is Remus doesn’t want to name. Sirius turns to look at him, and he’s glowing, and Remus is struck by those grey eyes, more intense and vibrant than anything he’s ever seen. He feels off kilter now, like an asteroid pulled into orbit. “The sunrise. It’s beautiful.” </p><p>“Yeah…” Sirius says, voice the quietest he’s ever heard it. “It really is.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(That morning, James wakes up to loud stomping and shouts coming from outside the bedroom. By the time he makes his way to the kitchen, there’s two steaming cups on the table, one tea, one coffee, and a note that says Sirius and Remus are going out for breakfast. </p><p>He takes the tea for him and the coffee for Peter, planning to wake him up and tell him the news.</p><p>Plus, he owes him. Their betting pool has grown wonderfully over the years.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The bacon is chewy, the eggs are burnt, but the pancakes are good, just like Sirius promised. He can see Sirius smiling even with the cup in front of his face, and Remus wonders why he waited so long to have this when it was in front of him all this time.</p><p>They don’t see the dawn rising, but this time they don’t have to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this has been sitting in my docs for maybe a month? i thought it would be a waste so i edited it a bit and here it is. i hope it was coherent enough for u to enjoy!! comments and kudos are much appreciated and helpful and thank u sm for reading </p><p><a href="https://miyochee.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> </p><p>title from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IXaMF4FqIkM">words</a> by gregory alan isakov</p></blockquote></div></div>
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